Several times during each day of sailing, he had seen huge schools and had captured, cooked and eaten what looked like 8” to 10” sea bass in his casting net. At least he knew he wouldn’t starve. Once he thought he saw what looked like dolphins darting in amongst the schools of fish, but couldn’t be sure because of the distance.
Three days of sailing almost due north, interrupted by his anchoring during darkness, Mike’s radar picked up a mass ahead. As the day progressed, the DEMAR-1 slowly got closer. The depth remained between 60’ and 80’ and according to his best guesstimates, he should be somewhere around southeast Georgia.
Anticipation running high, Mike was finally able to see a haze on the horizon that could only be land. Each minute brought it closer and it became evident that it was at least a very large island spreading across his radar screen to its maximum range to the west and about 20 miles to the east. Darkness descended once more and Mike dropped sail and set his anchor. He didn’t want to risk running aground in the dark with possible salvation in sight.
He had trouble sleeping that night and was staring at the dark landmass when something bumped the DEMAR-1. Looking towards the stern he saw the fin of the largest shark he had ever heard of. It would put Jaws to shame. As it turned and passed close along the starboard side, Mike could get an accurate idea of its size. It was at least half the length of his 65’ boat and had a fin that stood above his deck. The deck was a good 4’ above the waterline, making the tip of the fin between 5’ and 6’ above the water.
With a silent flick of its mighty tail, it sank out of sight into the black waters without leaving anything but a few ripples to mark its passage. Mike spent an anxious night splitting his attention between watching the land and the waters, but it never reappeared. Definitely not good swimming waters. Mike said out loud. I wouldn’t want to meet that in the dinghy either.
Just before dawn Mike spotted what appeared to be a star rising over the land to the east. Then he realized that it was too red to be a star and was in front of a hill. A mixture of relief and anxiety swept over him. A light or fire should mean people! But who? It changed from red to yellow and back again, appearing to pulse. That looks like a lighthouse of some type, thought Mike. I guess that decides which way I go in the morning.
Chapter 4
And found?
The anchor came up and the sails were set as the sun came over the horizon. Mike swung the bow east and followed the shoreline. He angled closer to shore until he had 40’ under his keel and maintained that depth as he paralleled the coast. He could see the hill on which he had spotted the beacon the previous night, but couldn’t see any structures nor anything that looked like it could have been the source for so bright a light.
The hill was situated at the corner of the island, which term Mike decided to use until proven differently. It was the ideal location for a lighthouse to guide ships around the bend in the island, but neither his eyes nor his radar showed any other vessels. The sides of the hill facing the sea were undercut slightly and almost sheer for their more than 200’ height. Not something that even an expert could climb without hammering pitons in and hanging on a rope for every inch of climb.
Mike looked at the face with his binos and couldn’t see any handholds or gullies that could be used to make the climb easier. A natural defense caused by a solid block of granite mountain being slowly smoothed by wave action for thousands of years. The base of the wall extended below the water level and left no exposed beach where a mariner might make land fall.
He decided to look for some sort of inlet or bay that would protect his boat from the open sea before he went ashore to explore. He had to be over protective of his only possessions in this familiar, but strange land. It was familiar, as he had spent many years living in Georgia at Ft. Benning and the foliage that he could see through his binoculars didn’t appear to have changed through the years. He could see the sandy soil interspaced with patches of red Georgia clay at the tops of the exposed cliffs and covered with what looked like scrub pine.
It took a couple of hours to reach the bend in the island and swing towards the north again. The granite cliffs remained as smooth and unclimbable as far as he could see. As he cleared the headlands, his radar began to pick up something a few miles away. Grabbing his binoculars, he picked it out of the swells ahead. It was obviously some type of boat, at least twice the size of his with a single mast and very colorful red sail.
As he studied it, he saw that it had a rounded bright yellow hull and it bounced on the swells like it wasn’t designed for open ocean sailing. The bow had an enclosed high platform above the deck and aft it went straight back to another high platform. The aft platform wasn’t enclosed except for a waist high rail and Mike could see that there were several people gathered around what had to have been the steering arm for the rudder. Along the sides he could see what looked like a row of wheels at the waterline.
It became obvious that they had spotted him as activities on board accelerated. Those aft began pointing and the sides on the enclosed forward platform dropped revealing nothing less than a giant crossbow. Mike remembered the term Ballista from the computer game “Age of Empires”. As he watched, crewmen scrambled on deck all armed with normal sized crossbows.
Then at the stern, two giants appeared. They were almost twice the size of the largest crewman. As Mike took a closer look, he realized that they both wore the pointed iron helmets of the old Spanish Conquistadors as well as large daggers and one wore a full sword. The other carried a musket the likes of which Mike had only seen in books and firearms collections. It was a matchlock muzzle-loading musket like that carried by the Spanish explorers of the 17th century.
Not wishing to approach too close until he was sure whether this was an aggressive boat or simply extreme caution on their part, Mike swung east, at a right angle to the seemingly ungainly war (?) ship. Mike raced below and grabbed some of his guns and returned to the bridge. He made a second trip and returned loaded down with ammunition. When he glanced back at the other boat, which was swinging to follow him, he saw that the “wheels” along both sides were in fact small paddle wheels and they began turning as the boat’s sail began lowering.
Mike knew that if he had to swing more to starboard, he would end up running into the wind and that would mean coming to a full stop. Then the other boat would catch him in short order. His forward speed slowed to about 5 kts. As it fought its way on a “short reach” to the wind. The other boat was running at about 5 or 6 kts with the little paddle wheels spinning fast. As he loaded magazines of 9 mm for his STEN, Mike started both of the Perkins diesels, but left the sails up and the engines at an idle. They would be his little surprise if needed.
He once again studied the approaching boat, but this time through the 3 to 9 power range finding scope mounted on his .308 caliber bolt-action rifle. What puzzled him were the two giants. What were they? They appeared to be Spanish Conquistadors, but the average height of the 17th century Spanish explorers was around 5’ 6”. These two were at least 8’ and possibly more. Mike had a parallax range finder among his many navigational supplies and using it, he found that the boat was about 400 Yds. away now.
Centering the riflescope’s range finder lines on the chest of one of the giants, he adjusted the lines so that one was at the giant’s chin and the other his belt. Reading the range finder showed 400 yds. That should only work if the target was man sized. He had read somewhere that the average human from chin to belt was about the same as a white tail deer from top of shoulder to belly, so Mike was using the settings for white tail deer on his scope.
Mike did the same with the helmsman standing beside the giants and found that the range finder scope said that he was almost 700 yds. away. The inescapable truth had to be that the giants were normal sized and the rest of the crew was about 3’ tall. That also meant that his original estimate of boat size was also in error. He had unconsciously determined its length in scale with the diminutive crewmen. The boa
t was actually about the same length as his own, or about 65’. With everything in perspective, it was time to determine intentions.
Chapter 5
First contact.
Mike swung the helm to port and turned north and as the wind filled his sails, he pointed his bow to pass within 50 yds. of the approaching boat. At 200 yds. he used the bullhorn to hail the other boat. The only response was that the other boat turned more towards him and continued closing. At 150 Yds., the ballista fired. Mike ducked and the bolt ricocheted off of the side of his steel hull. At 100 Yds., the musket equipped Conquistador took aim and fired. The impact of the heavy lead ball rang loudly as it bounced off of the steel coaming around the flying bridge.
Reflex took over and without thinking, Mike leveled his .308 and put the cross hairs on the shooter’s chest. A squeeze of the trigger, a kick and a loud clang as the 180 grain jacketed hollow point round blasted through the shooter’s iron breastplate. As he watched, the Conquistador pitched over backwards and tumbled over the rail and into the sea. Cranking a second round into the chamber, he repeated the procedure with the sword-carrying Conquistador, who was shouting commands to the ballista crew, while they worked to reload the catapult. The sword and the conquistador dropped to the deck in a heap.
By now, the two boats were within 50 yds. and Mike set down the rifle and while slapping a 32 round magazine in and cocking it, brought the STEN to bear on the fore deck crew. He almost fired before realizing that the entire crew had thrown away their weapons and were dropping to lie face down on the deck. The paddle wheels stopped turning and the boat rocked as it lost forward motion. Mike hit his quick release for his sails and as they auto furled, his boat came to a stop. The two boats sat less than 20 yds. apart bobbing on the sea while Mike tried to decide what to do with the 25 plus crewmen who had just surrendered.
Mike used the bullhorn again and called to the other boat, but no one answered his English. Trying again in the little bit of Spanish that he remembered from high school, Mike still got no response. Reversing the port engine and applying power to the starboard, Mike swung the bow left until it touched the gunwale of the other boat. Leaving the engines idling he secured a line between the two boats and STEN in hand, strode onto the other’s deck.
Chapter 6
Taking the Prize.
Once Mike stepped onto the strange craft he was able to see that the main deck actually was a catwalk about 3’ wide that followed the gunwale from bow to stern on each side. To the stern could be seen an enclosed cabin below the main decking and through the open deck could be seen rows of chained sailors. They sat on wooden plank benches and had handles to hold while each pushed a pedal assembly with his feet. The pedals connected to one half-ship width shafts, which turned the paddle wheels. By having each side’s crew turning the paddle wheels on that side of the boat, each side could be driven independently. This would allow very tight turning, comparable to that created by his twin engines. “It looks like the “Stairmaster” lives on.” Thought Mike. “Great”, said Mike aloud. “Conquistadors, slavery and a bunch of leprechauns.”
Mike prodded one of the deck hands with a sneakered foot and with a moan of terror, the deck hand crawled away backwards. By the tiller on the aft control deck, he spied a prone figure with much higher quality clothing. All wore a vest of a silky material in varying shades of yellows and a kilt affair in burgundy except for the lone person by the tiller who’s color scheme was in silver and burgundy. The “slaves” in the lower deck area were dressed the same as the deck hands, but their clothing looked like it was the cast offs from the deck crew. All were either dark complexioned or very tanned from exposure to the sun and their varying shades of light hair looked much like the sun bleaching he had seen on the girls on California beaches.
Mike worked his way back to stand over the better dressed crewman and lifted him by the scruff of the neck so that he was looking right into the small, but perfectly proportioned human face on a 3’ tall, probably 40 pound human body. The color blanched from the tanned complexion, making the brown eyes appear to bulge out even more than the look of shear terror on the face warranted. No me muerta whimpered the sailor. So you speak Spanish. said Mike. Unfortunately I know almost none.
The sailor said, I spik engle too. Is me lange deus. Overlooking being referred to as a god, Mike set the sailor’s feet down on the deck, but held him upright when the terrified soul would have dropped back down prone to the deck.
What is your name? asked Mike Allas deus, answered the sailor
Why did you attack me Allas? Othah deus say catch barko. responded Allas deus say, we do o kill us.
Mike said, Well these two deus can’t kill anyone. Who are these others chained below? They be peonies, deus owns them, use for all thing no do self. Allas said
Unchain them. There won’t be any slavery around me. Said Mike.
Si mi deus, said Allas, who bowed low as he bent over another sailor still prone beside the tiller. Within a few moments the other sailor had low crawled away from Mike and dropped down a ramp to the lower deck area. Cheers and shouts followed his departure as the slaves removed their chains and looked up timidly to get a glimpse of their benefactor.
The more he heard the abbreviated speech of these people, the easier it became to understand them and the easier it was to translate it into his 21st century dialect. He thought how amazing it was that the English language hadn’t been bastardized any more than it was in 10,000 years.
“Where is your city?” Mike asked Allas
Tifʼn is that way about half a daylight’s sailing time said Allas as he pointed north. There is a deep harbor and many people.
How many more of the Spaniards are there? Mike queried
These were the only ones. We are a minor city and these were our Deus. There are many more up the coast. They have split our cities among themselves and one or two rule each.
Why were they out here today? asked Mike
Our signal light keeper saw you sailing this morning and ran to tell us. They made us come out to capture you. Said Allas. “They capture any boats that do not belong to deus’ cities.
Are you at war? asked Mike
Allas answered, Sometimes boats come from the cities to the west where water is not deep enough for the deus’ boat. The deus capture them. The other cities must think that the boats were lost to storms.
No one would dare to attack the deus. They can not be hurt.
Oh really? said Mike looking at the dead conquistador. No, they’re not deus. They try to make you believe that only because they are few and you are many. They know that if you tried, you could destroy all of them. Why haven’t you sent a warning to the other cities?
If the deus found out, they would come here and destroy our city. The cities never talk to each other any more. The only place strangers are allowed is at the docks for trading.
They have a boat much larger than these with many large sticks that fire flame and smoke. When they first came here, they destroyed many buildings of ‘Acon to the north and killed many people. No one wants to see that done to their city. Allas added, We have nothing that can defend against them.
Those are called cannon. Where is their big boat?
They keep it in the bay at ‘Acon, along with most of the deus.
You sound like you’ve been to ‘Acon Allas.
Yes I have been there several times when the Deus went to visit the others. It is about three days sailing to the north.
What is your job Allas?
I am the personal servant of the deus when they are on this boat and the person who translates their commands to the crew.
Who commands the boat when the deus aren’t on board?
No one. This boat is only for their use.
What is done with the peons when the boat is in port?
They are all kept in a compound by the docks and work in the warehouses. When The deus want to travel, they pick peonies to power the boat and take sailors fr
om other boats as crew.
How long have the Spaniards been here?
They came to our city before the last storm season. That was four turnings of the moon ago. I do not know when they came to the other cities. Since shortly before they came to our city, no boats have come to trade from the north. Now we send several boatloads of food, jewelry and cloth each turning of the moon to the north that come back empty.
Hmm, that sounds like a tithe to their boss. Thought Mike. Aloud he said Well Allas, if your crew is willing to sail home without chains, I’ll follow you in my boat.
What will we do when the deus find out that we let two of their own die? asked a suddenly thoughtful Allas They will come down in the big boat and kill us all.
We can decide what to do when we get to Tifʼn Allas. What’s in the cabin? asked Mike.
That is the cabin of the deus, responded Allas. Well, let’s take a look. Ah you lead, Allas Allas entered the cabin without hesitation, with Mike following, STEN ready.
The cabin was a basic room, with two Mike sized bunks, a table, two Mike sized chairs and barrels of what seemed to be raw fruit and vegetables, corn cakes, water and a smaller barrel of what smelled like rancid beer. The room stank of unwashed bodies and Mike didn’t want to consider what forms of life would be found in the unwashed bedding on the bunks.
On the table was a small chest, along with some wooden spoons and pewter cups and plates. Opening the chest revealed some crudely drawn charts. There were no navigational instruments to be seen, which led Mike to believe that the Spaniards on this boat probably stayed within sight of the land.
Allas, do you know how to read these charts?
They did not let me see these papers, but I recognize the shape of our harbor at Tif’n. Allas said as he pointed to a small bay at the bottom right edge of the chart.